Wolverines
by Trainalf
Summary: As a surprise invasion rocks the American East Coast, the US Army mobilizes to defend the homeland. A short novelization of the titular level of Modern Warfare 2.
1. Chapter 1

XX Author's Note XX

A short novelization of one of my favorite levels of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2. I have had thoughts of novelizing the entire trilogy, with some changes for the sake of flow, realism, and added depth, but sadly time and other story obligations prevent me from doing so. Still, in my periods of boredom or writer's block, I've come to write this with some of the aforementioned ideas despite a lack of intended characterization. Enjoy.

 **Hunter Army Airfield, Georgia. August 12th, 2016—13:23:34 Hours.**

The lounge was crowded with men and women from a variety of units, mainly from the 1st Battalion, 75th Ranger Regiment and the 3rd Battalion, 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, most of whom called the airfield home. Most of the other tenants on base, along with the bulk of the U. S. Army, had departed for the West Coast in anticipation for conflict there, a conflict caused by the matter being discussed on the lounge's television right now.

" _The body of one dead terrorist was confirmed to be that of American citizen and U. S. Army Ranger Joseph Allen, who was discovered with fake Russian identification. Mr. Allen was killed by Russian police during a terrorist attack on Zakhaev International Airport, which resulted in the death of hundreds of Russian and European civilians."_

" _The discovery has prompted outrage and calls for war within Russia, and there have been several close calls between U. S. and Russian military forces in the Pacific Ocean. Russia has vowed to capture those responsible for the attack. The United States denies any involvement in the affair but has not offered any explanation on the presence of one of its citizens. The EU has called for peace and an intensive investigation in light of the outbreak of anti-American sentiment in its member states. In Asia—"_

In the back of the room, one of the men who'd been watching the broadcast shook his head and left the room. He was a tall, dark skinned man who wore an Army uniform emblazoned with both a sergeant's stripes and a Ranger tab. The name Foley covered his name tape.

As he walked away, several other Rangers passing him either gave him a wide berth or a glance, a behavior not uncommon in the past few days, for Sergeant Foley was the subject of suspicions. It wasn't surprising, considering Private Joseph Allen had been a member of his squad just a week ago. It was the first time in the 75th's institutional memory that something like this happened.

The 75th Ranger Regiment was the premier light infantry force for the U. S. Army and one of its frontline forces when it came to fighting terrorism, something that had been extremely prevalent in the past few years. Even now, the repercussions of Al Asad's insane bid for power that engulfed the entire Middle East in war were still felt. It wasn't just the price of blood—over thirty thousand American troops, including two Marine divisions, completely wiped out—but weapons as well.

A massive amount of Asad's former military equipment, including some captured American weaponry, had managed to escape the warzone in the chaos following the nuclear detonation that had brought the American invasion to its knees. From there, it found its way to terrorist and criminal organizations all around the world, rocking its stability to the core. The U. S. had been at the front of combating this, deploying its forces all around, reactivating dormant divisions, and expanding recruiting into their Special Forces.

Foley could attest to that. He was the commander of Hunter Two-One: 1st Squad, 2nd Platoon, Bravo Company (callsign Hunter). A veteran of several tours in Afghanistan while serving in the 10th Mountain Division, Foley had had marked his 3rd year as a Ranger just two months ago. In those three years he'd been to dozens of corners of the world, and even back again to Afghanistan- he'd been deployed there still just a week ago before the conflict with Russia had broken out.

Hunter Company had the same composition of a regular Ranger company: three rifle platoons, each containing three rifle squads and a machine gun squad, and a weapons platoon equipped with mortars, portable anti-tank weaponry, and a sniper section. The SCAR-H rifle was the Rangers' new signature weapon, a powerful lightweight plastic rifle that let them move fast and strike hard. When the need rose, they could easily equip a larger arsenal. With the recent situation, the need became more real, even if Foley hated to admit it.

It was still hard to believe how venomous U.S.—Russian relations had become since the 2nd Russian Civil War. They'd defeated the Ultranationalists militarily, but had not eliminated their political clout. They'd gained control of the government soon afterward. From there, it led to constantly rising tensions and massive military buildups, the likes of which hadn't been seen since the Cold War. And now there was the airport attack that threatened to spill it over into a war.

Foley couldn't fathom what happened. The last he'd seen the private, he was leaving with Lieutenant-General Shepard, the U.S. commander in Afghanistan, for a reassignment to some international task force. How'd he gone from there to Russia? The private had been fluent in Russian, but Foley doubted he'd been a terrorist posing as a Ranger. He'd been too proud, too skilled, too willing to lay down his life for his country and his brothers. There were so many questions, but no time to get answers. All that mattered now was that Russia was rightly pissed and could lash out at America at any moment.

"Hey, Sarge; world still spinning?" a voice asked Sergeant Foley as he entered another break room, occupied only by seven people: his squad, who were also tainted with suspicion. The voice belonged to Corporal Dunn, leader of Fire Team Alpha, squad medic, and one of Foley's good friends since he transferred into the Rangers. On the couch next to him were the two remaining members of his fire team since Allen left: Private Morgan, the SAW operator, and Private Ramirez, a soldier fluent in three languages and a graduate of the U. S. Army Sniper School.

Across and sitting on the couch opposite those three was Fire Team Bravo: Corporal Hoss, recently promoted from PFC after the unit's most recent tour, and Privates Ray, Coleman, and Alexander, all relatively new to the unit. He'd led these men in Afghanistan for a few months now, and had their complete trust. Likewise, Foley cared for them as well.

"For now, Corporal," Foley answered Dunn before sweeping his gaze over the entire squad. "Now, listen up. I don't know what happened with Allen, and I doubt we'll ever find out. We knew the type of Ranger he was, and that's what's important. Now, I know people have got their eyes on us, but that only means we have more of a chance to show how good we Rangers are, hooah?"

"Hooah!" they all responded.

"So, any word on where we're getting deployed, Sarge?" Corporal Hoss asked.

"Nothing yet," Foley said as he shook his head. It was surprising since the U. S. was in a rush to deploy as many of its combat units to the West Coast and Alaska. These places were the two likeliest targets if hostilities broke out, especially now that Russia had been building up its Pacific forces.

They were trying, anyway. Men were easy to move, heavy equipment not so much. When tensions started to build up, the U. S. once again started stationing its heavy forces in Europe. With the political mess over there, the U. S. was having a harder time getting the equipment out. In the meantime, they'd activated and moved in several National Guard divisions as an emergency measure.

They couldn't pull everyone back, though. Special Forces units like Delta Force and the Green Berets in particular were staying overseas in case various terrorist organizations used the panic to further their own gains, and two of the 1st Battalion's combat companies had yet to come home. Still, about half the US Armed Forces had redeployed to the west coast in recent days.

Attacks on the east coast were considered possible though, although they'd have to be small. Foley suspected that's why the 1st Battalion was still here and on high alert, in case anything did happen. If the Russians did decide to do something across the Atlantic, Hunter Two-One, and indeed the whole battalion, would be there to stop them.

The soldiers of the 1st Battalion and the rest of the base were awake at 0358 the next morning not by reveille, but by the simultaneous wailing of nearly every alarm on base. The current situation was far too tense for drills—it could only mean hostilities had finally broken out.

The response was automatic: men and women all jumped out of bed, quickly got their uniforms and kits on, and ran outside to form up. The personnel of the 160th seemed to be having an even busier morning—trucks were rushing fuel, munitions, and personnel to the aircraft. They didn't have much time to think about it; the companies' XOs met them at formation and told them to stop wasting time, fetch their Humvees from the motor pool, and start loading them with weapons and supplies. The officers would be along to brief them shortly.

As far as operating procedure went, it was unnatural, which only meant something really bad had happened to upset it. "Think the Russians pulled something?" Corporal Dunn asked as they hauled ass to the motor pool.

"Hell if I know, Corporal, but we got our orders for the time being," Foley responded. In his mind, he admitted that small-scale attacks could hit the East Coast, but the base didn't suddenly turn upside down for something small, and the Rangers certainly wouldn't need anti-tank and anti-air weapons either. Together with Corporal Dunn, Foley began stacking supplies in the Humvee in a rather haphazard manner.

The Humvees were being phased out in favor of a new replacement, but most second-line forces still had them—the Rangers kept still kept some to supplement their ROSVs. They were fast, they had decent armor, and they could be equipped with a large variety of weaponry ranging from guided missiles, automatic grenade launchers, and a variety of machine guns. It was perfect for the Rangers, who were normally air assault specialists, when they attacked by land. That was only half of their orders, though.

Only a token amount of survival supplies was being loaded, and most of the room reserved for weapons. Being a rifle squad, Hunter Two-One was loaded mostly with 7.62 rounds, along with a few belts of 5.54 mm ammo for their support gunners. A pair of AT-4 anti-tank rockets was secured in the back of each Humvee, their power enough to damage even a modern MBT. Lastly, a Stinger anti-air missile was packed into each Humvee. It was around that time that the officers finally showed up to brief their men, and what they had to say was far from good.

Foley was there with the other three sergeants in the platoon when their CO, Lieutenant Pierce gave them shocking news. "Russia's invaded the East Coast," he announced to the gathered men. It was a bombshell, but they were the elite, the rough-and-ready, and the tried and tested—very few things could rattle the Rangers. "Air strikes and para drops from New York all the way to Washington D.C; 160th just left with C Company to help with the civilian evacuations. C-130s are gonna land in a few hours to get us and drop us over northern Virginia. We need to counter-attack now and hard before they dig in."

"We don't have a more precise objective?" Sergeant Roke, the leader of Hunter Two-Two, asked. Their lieutenant shook his head.

"They just want us in the fight. We'll probably get an update on the ground. Right now, we just need to get our asses over there. Make sure your squads are ready and prepared to take off the moment those planes land. Clear everything out of the armory. We're gonna need it for this fight—all of it."

"Yes sir." the squad leaders replied before heading back to their men. Foley, on the other hand, was trying to collect his thoughts. Russian paratrooper drops and air strikes—it was definitely not a diversionary attack. They really wanted to occupy the East Coast. The Rangers were the emergency response force; they might not meet up with friendlies again for a while after landing. Lastly, their AO was primarily urban—lots of cover. They'd need some close-quarters weapons and something to blow away cover.

"Listen up, Two-One! News is just about what we expected: a Russian attack. Para drops up and down the east coast." Foley gave it to them straight. They'd all seen war; it was nothing new to them. A few whistled softly at the news. "We're going to hit them back, and hit back hard."

"Send the bastards packing by dinner tomorrow," Corporal Hoss declared confidently. Meanwhile, Foley examined his squad's equipment to address some shortcomings in mind.

"Corporal Dunn," Foley said, "get a grenade launcher for your rifle, and go pick up some extra medical supplies, on the double!" Pvt. Allen had been Fire Team Alpha's grenadier, and they'd need that fire power for urban combat. Also, if they were going to be operating only by themselves for quite some time, they'd need survival supplies. He ordered Ramirez and Coleman, his assistant gunners, to get shotgun attachments for their own rifles. If it came to close combat, they'd need those to blow enemies away.

Afterwards, Foley checked the Humvees to make sure they had equipment for every possible contingency. He spotted only one shortcoming and went to the armory to remedy it. "Ramirez!" When the private turned, Foley tossed him the M-14 sniper rifle he'd gotten. "We might need this." The private nodded and stowed the weapon away.

In the end they really did clean the armory out, and they gave what was left of the supplies to the Air Force security detachment that arrived to take over the defense of the base. The 1st Battalion was ready for combat, and the company commanders called their soldiers for a few quick words of encouragement.

"Now, I'm not gonna lie and say we have the moral high ground here." Hunter Company's CO, Captain Richards, didn't bullshit them. "Those Russians out there really believe we deserve this and will be highly motivated. _But,_ " he said in a more aggressive tone, "like them we'll be fighting for our home. This is _our_ country and we aren't about to let anyone walk all over it, no matter what. It'll just gonna be us out there at first, but we _will_ stop them. Rangers, lead the way!"

Even if they were several states away, in all likelihood the Russians heard the roar of approval that came from the Rangers, judging from the way some of them felt a sudden unease as their feet touched down on the yellow grass of fall. Whether or not they realized it, they soon would run into the same force that would stop them in their tracks.


	2. Chapter 2

XX Author's Note XX

Below you'll see a mention of one of the things that stalled the novelization project: the Nintendo DS games. Their events are also considered canon, which would mean the Russians invaded Alaska and the West Coast as well and penetrated at least two hundred fifty miles inland, since they got armored units past California to the Hoover Dam. Hell, the ending states they even had forces in Texas for a very brief time. Attacking a state whose National Guard is a whole division—brilliant!

Still, it's a lot of new characters and events to develop; the missions aren't even dated, to my knowledge. Plus, it stretches MW3s plot even further beyond belief: they could sustain that many losses and still invade Europe two months later. Airborne forces are easy to replenish; armored, not so much.

XX

It had been daytime before the 1st Battalion lifted off. The C-130s took the long way through the Gulf of Mexico, which fortunately hadn't been compromised. The lumbering giants hadn't even stayed on the landing strip for longer than five minutes before they were off the ground again, carrying their cargo to the front lines. Hunter Two-One and Two-Two were some of the last men to embark.

They'd received an in-flight update from the battalion commander as they flew to northern Virginia, and Foley had learned a few other facts after asking the C-130 crew for some news and making a quick call to an old friend in the 10th Mountain. There were confirmed Russian landings along most of the East Coast, from Maine all the way down to Virginia. Everything east of the I-95 was in Russian hands, and battles were taking place everywhere east of the Mississippi River, with the National Guard helping to evacuate civilians. Estimates of enemy strength ranged from eighty to one hundred fifty thousand men. No one could tell in the chaos.

Meanwhile, the 10th Division had been pushed out of New York by the Russian Navy and Naval Infantry, and had also suffered heavy casualties. Washington D.C was the only spot still holding out on the ground, defended by two armored BCT's from the Army's recently reactivated 8th Armored Division—mostly inexperienced troops. The division's 3rd Brigade, a Stryker brigade, was preparing for a counterattack south into northern Virginia. The 2nd Marine Division in North Carolina had been hit hard by Russian airstrikes, but had already counter-attacked north into Virginia regardless and was trying to secure Richmond, which was one of the first places to be attacked.

That was where the 1st Battalion was heading as well. Virginia was the priority at the moment. If the Americans could secure D.C's southern flank, they'd go a long way towards getting the Russians off their soil. Unfortunately, they were proving shorthanded for the task.

Between the Rangers, the Marines, and the 8th and 10th Mountain Divisions, the Americans had only maybe a fifth of the ground troops the Russians had. Every National Guard brigade east of the Mississippi that wasn't already engaged—amounting to some twenty thousand men—were heading their way, but were mostly infantry and would have to secure their states first. Apparently, the U. S. General Staff was uneasy about pulling forces from the West Coast in case Russia went for a two-pronged offensive; there were even unconfirmed reports of Russian landings in Alaska. For now, they could only send some aircraft squadrons to try and hold the enemy back, a gesture blunted by the fact the Russians had established their own air bases on American territory and bombed airfields and airports even west of the Mississippi.

The whole thing had been quick, well-executed, and cleverly planned down to the smallest details. Ivan wanted an excuse for the longest time to do this, and the airport massacre had been all they needed. They were tearing through America's defenses like paper, and nothing seemed to be able to stop them.

Fortunately for the United States, the Army Rangers landed in Virginia later that day.

 **Northern Virginia. August 13** **th** **, 2016 – 17:13:14**

The initial drop went well. Hunter Two-One and Two-Two made it to the ground without trouble. At the moment, Russian fighters were busy protecting their own transports than going after the Americans. Both squads landed in the already abandoned suburbs just thirty miles from the Virginia-Maryland border.

They'd landed while the Russians were dropping a second wave of paratroopers into Virginia, and the sky was filled with formations of transport planes and the occasional strike aircraft, prompting Hunter Company to keep its head down as all four platoons rallied at an abandoned Nova gas station. Second and Fourth Platoons had perimeter security, and the rest of the company searched the surrounding block while the officers convened to contact higher command and get their orders. Rather than expose themselves by staying on the road, Two-One was under the roof next to the pumps.

"This is messed up, man." Corporal Dunn stared at the aircraft overhead. There were dozens, maybe even hundreds of them. They'd all known Russia was rearming, but the sheer numbers was alarming. "Even if they got tankers or captured some airports, there's no way all those planes are getting back. These guys took a one-way trip."

"If they get D.C," Foley pointed out, "a few planes won't matter, Corporal." He was watching the drops carefully, trying to deduce the number of enemies. The first drop had been nearly half a day ago, probably their elite units. These guys might be reservists or second-line. A whole regiment's worth, maybe, but they'd be scattered for the next few hours, a weakness they'd hopefully be able to exploit. There were bigger drops too: supply containers and vehicles: probably BMPs and BTRs. "Stay alert, Rangers," Foley warned.

The rest of the company returned from their sweep and reinforced the perimeter as the Russian wave finally ended. The sounds of gunfire and explosions drifted to them from the distance though, leaving no doubt of the war just a few miles away. Just as they were getting impatient, they got their mission brief.

"Listen, Hunter Company just got an important mission," the lieutenant explained. "There's an HVI, call sign Raptor, who was being evacuated out of the suburbs here. His helo got shot down just five minutes ago. They crashed in a lot right next to I-95, about five miles south-east of our current position. We need to secure the site before the Russians do and get the HVI out of there. Got it?"

"Yes sir!" all the squad leaders confirmed.

"Hunter is splitting up. The captain will go with First and Fourth Platoons and make a straight run for the crash site. He's borrowing our MG squad. Second and Third Platoons are going to split up and make our way east through the suburbs. The platoon sergeant is going with Third Platoon for now. If we get stuck or ambushed, we don't want everyone wiped out. Got it? Good. Move out!"

"Squad, mount up!" Foley waved as he rushed back. The assembled soldiers quickly climbed into their vehicles and headed off. First and Fourth Platoons were out first, with Second Platoon's MG squad. Between those added MGs and Fourth Platoon's heavy weapons, they shouldn't have any trouble securing the crash site.

There was several minutes' worth of exchanges over the radio as Hunter Company separated, while its captain confirmed their orders and told them to expect radio contact from Overlord—possibly the only American command center still operating on the East Coast.

Foley listened on the battle net as they drove. It was chaos, with most discipline seemingly gone. He caught snippets of news: Marine attack helos picking off Russian infantry, a fire team being pinned down by a BTR-60, and a group of National Guardsmen and police officers holed up in a bank against a Russian attack. There was little to no organization. Both sides were scattered and picking whatever fights they could find.

"This is Overlord," a voice over the radio net began, "all Hunter units report in."

"This is Hunter-Actual, Overlord," the captain said. "First and Fourth Platoons are currently advancing towards the crash site."

"Hunter Two-Actual here, Overlord." Behind Two-One's Humvees was the Humvee carrying the lieutenant and his RTO. "We're advancing as well."

"Hunter Three-Actual reporting in, Overlord. We're about ten mikes from the crash site. Do you copy?"

"Overlord copies," Command responded. "Be advised, all Hunter elements; we have two UAVs over the crash site, call signs Goliath-One and -Two. No Russian forces yet but NORAD has detected another wave of transports coming in. You need to secure that crash site ASAP.

"Hunter-Actual copies, Overlord" With that, the radio went quiet. If Overlord was the only command center left, it would have to coordinate hundreds of other units as well.

"So, who do you think this guy is?" Dunn asked as he turned the Humvee down another row of houses. "They're sending the whole company to get him."

"Probably somebody big," Foley answered. "Lots of high ranking people live here and commute to D.C. NSA, CIA, someone who knows things the Russians would want to know. That's why—"

Foley was cut off by the sudden roar of a jet engine and a massive explosion just behind them that rocked the Humvee. Dunn slammed on the brakes and they skidded to a halt.

"What the hell was that?" the corporal shouted.

"Air strike behind us!" Morgan called out. "They got Third Squad!"

"Shit." Foley jumped out of the passenger seat. "Get the Stinger, Ramirez!" he ordered. Foley ran back to see the carnage for himself. It must've been an unguided bomb that hit; the impact crater was in what had once been an immaculate lawn. It had been enough to reduce the two Humvees of Two-Three to flaming wrecks that were now propelled into houses across the street. It had flipped one of Two-Two's Humvees over as well, but had spared the men. One was already crawling out of the wreckage while the others went to pull the rest out.

"Where the hell is that jet?" the lieutenant demanded angrily. Ramirez and a soldier from Second Squad were aiming towards the sky, but the unseen jet that had hit them seemed to have gone on. "Get them out of there," the lieutenant said as he turned his attention back the flipped Humvee, "and don't leave those supplies for the Russians!" When the Humvee was flipped, much of the tightly-packed supplies had spilled around it. "Hurry up!"

The next minute was chaos as soldiers were pulled from the wreckage and hastily treated while the rest of them picked up the scattered supplies and tossed it carelessly on top of their own stockpiles. Then, the jet came back, zooming just over the top of the houses further down the street, blowing out several windows on its way by.

"Can't get a lock with the houses in the way!" Ramirez warned.

"Get them in the Humvees!" the lieutenant ordered. "We're getting the hell out of here!" The Humvees tore off carrying all of their wounded and the supplies while Pierce reported in the attack to Hunter-Actual. Bad news came back.

"We're pinned by a platoon-sized enemy force. Secure that crash site and we'll catch up soon!" Gunfire blocked out the Captain's voice several times during his transmission. Third Platoon came in on the radio soon after

"Hunter-Three Actual here. We got eyes on the crash site and are pulling up now. You copy that, Overlord?"

"Overlord copies, secure that site. Three-Actual, Goliath-Two reports Russian troops advancing from the east, over."

"Not a problem, Overlord. This lot's ours now."

"I thought we landed on the safe side of I-95." Dunn remarked.

"No such thing now, Corporal." Foley looked out the window. "Corporal!" He leaned back to grab the wheel and spun it around, turning the Humvee so that it careened through a fence and into a backyard. It was just in time to avoid a Russian Mi-28 that flew over a moment later, guns blazing and tearing up the street around them.

"Shit! Scatter, scatter!" their lieutenant ordered.

"Holy shit!" Dunn kept his foot on the pedal and smashed their Humvee through five fences and back yards, knocking over grills, chairs, and an above-ground swimming pool. Fire Team Bravo wasn't far behind them.

Also behind them came the sounds of explosions, no doubt heavy Russian ordinance. They must've found something to shoot. "Hunter Two-Actual, you still there?" Foley radioed. No response. "Two-Two Actual, please respond." No response either. Foley tried again, getting nothing back.

"Gunship's bugging out," Ramirez reported. "I'm seeing black smoke back there, too."

"Damn it!" Foley slammed an angry fist on the dashboard.

"Should I turn back, Sarge?" Dunn asked. Foley shook his head.

"No point, Corporal. That gunship might be expecting us. Get back on the road and get us towards that crash site. Bravo, stay behind us."

"On it," Dunn acknowledged as he reluctantly drove through another fence. While Two-One tried to find its way back to the streets, Foley radioed in the bad news.

"Hunter Two-One Actual to all Hunter units; our PL is down and so is the rest of our platoon. Hunter Two-One Actual is now Hunter Two-Actual. Be advised, Russian air support is active in our area. We're still advancing to the crash site."

"Copy that, Two-Actual." The company commander didn't miss a beat. "Get there in one piece."

"Overlord copies Hunter Two-Actual; we'll redirect air cover to your sector."

"Could've been useful earlier…" Corporal Dunn muttered as they found the road again and headed east, this time with Fire Team Bravo on the point. Fighters from the National Guard roared overhead a few moments later, back in the direction they'd come from.

It was about that time Foley caught sight of the oily black smoke in the skyline that marked the crash site. "That's where Raptor is." Foley pointed it out to his squad before returning once more to the radio. "Hunter-Actual, we have eyes on the crash site and will be there soon."

"Hunter-Actual copies," the company commander radioed back. "We're still held up here. I think we stumbled into one of their fucking rally points. Get to Third Platoon and back them up. We'll catch up."

"Yes sir," Foley confirmed. At the same time he realized that they couldn't be more than a mile from the crash site. If there really was a Russian rally point there… Ignoring visions of an entire enemy regiment overwhelming them, Foley turned his head up as transport planes rumbled straight above them.

"Oh shit," Dunn cursed when parachutes started dropping from them. Yet more paratroopers were being landed—and Hunter Two-One was driving right through their landing zone.

"Keep an eye out for ambushes from the flanks and our rear," Foley warned. "Gunners, engage any paratroopers you see." As they rounded a turn, a Russian landed, or rather slammed into, the roof of one of the houses. Bravo's mini-gun fired immediately, and the enemy soldier disappeared behind a hail of tracers and collapsed on a roof.

"Ha ha, get some!" Private Morgan cheered. That fleeting moment of superiority disappeared when the squad came out of the turn and was forced to stop because of a traffic barrier that had been set up by local police. Before they could get their bearings in place, something even worse appeared.

"We got a BTR! Get out! Get out!" Foley warned as a wheeled Russian IFV came up on the other street at the same time and caught sight of them. Its small auto cannon turned on them as they climbed out of their vehicles. Fire Team Bravo barely made it out their Humvee before 30mm explosive shells rained on it, engulfing the fire team and their Humvee in diesel fires and machine cannon shells.

"Team, this way; follow me!" Foley ordered. Fire Team Alpha barely got out of way before the autocannon destroyed their Humvee as well, along with all of their supplies. They ran for the closest escape route: the side yard of a house. Perhaps the smoke from their burning vehicles had masked them, because the BTR ceased its firing after wrecking the second Humvee, allowing the last four soldiers of Second Platoon to get into the backyard safely.

They didn't stop there and risk the BTR or its infantry dismounting and coming after them. They kept right on moving, through the back yard, over a fence, and into a ditch that ran behind the houses. "Overlord, this is Hunter Two-Actual! We've encountered enemy armor west of the crash site. Fire Team Bravo is down. We need air support!"

"Negative, Two-Actual; all air support is already engaged. Additional ground support is en route but has encountered heavy resistance." It seemed every plane left on this side of the country was focused on securing the skies. Not surprising, given that the Russians were using the skies to supply and reinforce their troops. Still, that would leave the Americans at a disadvantage for several hours, maybe longer.

"Hunter Two-Actual copies. We'll proceed on foot. Over and out." No sooner had he ended the message when Dunn spoke up.

"Sarge, did HQ just tell us to go 'F' ourselves?" It wasn't far from the truth. They were already facing impossible odds and a mechanized enemy force at least three times their size.

"Pretty much, Corporal," Foley responded. They stopped when they reached the end of the ditch as Foley turned to what was left of his squad. "Now, listen up; we're outnumbered, but we got everything we need to give Ivan a hard time." He patted the side of his rifle. They still had their weapons and the ammo in the pouches on their vests. "We're Rangers. We'll pick our shots carefully and drive Ivan back, hooah?"

"Hooah!" Motivated, the squad continued moving until all four men had to shrink closer to the ground as the sound of a nearby auto cannon started up.

"Hunter Two-Actual to Hunter-Three, come in." As close as they were to the crash site, Third Platoon needed to know about the enemy armor. "Hunter-Three, come in!" He wasn't getting an immediate response. Just when he was about to contact Overlord, the radio cracked to life.

"That you, Foley?" The voice was heavy and a bit raspy, but Foley recognized it as one of the squad leaders in Third Platoon.

"Affirmative. What's your situation?" Foley asked, already suspecting it wasn't good.

"We've been engaged with a company-sized enemy force for a while. XO is KIA. Half the platoon is either wounded or dead. I got hit a few minutes ago. Hunter-Actual isn't responding." Foley's mouth tightened. "Raptor's still secure, though. What's your status?"

"Second Platoon is down to half a squad and we've lost our supplies." Foley didn't have any good news, either. "We're advancing from the west." Foley waved his arm to order Two-One out of the ditch and across the road. "Be advised, an enemy BTR is coming from the west as well."

"Left!" Ramirez called, and Foley turned his head to see the same BTR that had ambushed them earlier was speeding through an intersection further down the road.

"Hold your fire!" Foley ordered quickly. "It hasn't seen us yet. Stay behind and out of sight!" Foley ordered as they crossed into a backyard. Because of the interruption, he'd missed part of the wounded Ranger's response.

"—fine for now. There are still at least two infantry platoons, attacking us from the north and west. They seem focused on capturing the gas station across the road. I don't think they know about Raptor yet." It was perhaps the first good news he'd received.

"Understood," Foley confirmed. "We'll hit them from the rear; watch your fire to the west."

"Copy that. Make it quick." And the transmission ended.

"Let's go!" Foley waved and they went up the side yard and back onto the street, staying well behind the BTR. The armored vehicle was crawling up the street at a slow pace, its cannon rotating from side to side as it lobbed explosive shells into houses on both sides of the street. Whether or not it was to deny the Rangers some shelter or a spiteful attempt to kill civilians, Foley didn't know. Instead, he used the moment of peace to make another radio call to Overlord.

"That's a negative, Two-Actual; Hunter-Six hasn't made a call in the last ten minutes. We'll try and re-establish contact with them."

"Roger that." Foley shook his head as the call ended. Not even an hour on the ground and half the company had already been butchered. Two platoons running into organized enemy units wasn't a chance event—there really must've been a Russian rally point around here.

They followed the BTR up the road, staying behind it and keeping to the cover of abandoned cars and dumpsters to avoid being spotted as they made slow progress towards the crash site. By this point, they could hear the fighting: small-arms mostly, but unmistakably mixed with heavy machine gun fire, including what Foley was certain was a mini gun. Third Platoon's Humvees were still in the fight.

"Overlord to Hunter Two-Actual; we cannot make contact with Hunter-Six."

"Roger that, Overlord," Foley responded as he shook his head.

"That's fucked up," Dunn whispered as they continued trailing the BTR. "How are we going to face these guys by ourselves?"

"We'll figure something out, Corporal," Foley responded calmly. "The Rangers always have." The four of them ducked behind a sedan when the BTR stopped. "Looks like they're blocked," Foley said as he spotted another barricade on the road in front of the IFV. Beyond the barricade the road ended on a larger four lane road. And across from that was the parking lot where Raptor had done down.

"Damn," Foley cursed when the side doors were flung open as a squad of Russian infantry disembarked from the vehicle and dashed for the barricade. If that BTR was going to turn around, they'd be in trouble. Foley's eyes looked for an alleyway near the barrier. _We could go around if we could just get past the BTR…_

One of the Russians, presumably the squad leader, was ordering his men over the barrier when he himself jumped over and turned to face them—and in doing so spotted the Rangers further back. "Oh shit." Dunn shook his head when he pointed at them and started yelling.

"We're spotted! Ramirez, throw some smoke. Dunn, Morgan, engage that infantry!" His squad jumped right into action. Morgan immediately propped his LMG on the hood of the car and let lose a stream that caught two of the Russian paratroopers before they could reach cover. Three ran for a car in a nearby driveway and were killed when Dunn fired a rifle grenade at the vehicle. The last two made a run for the alley, barely dodging the fire Foley put towards them.

While their fire occupied the infantry, Ramirez ran onto the street and immediately chucked two smoke grenades at the vehicle, quickly masking it in a thick white cloud before it could turn its weapons on them. This was their chance. "Squad, run past the BTR and into the alley!" Foley ordered.

Ramirez was the closest and got there first, putting bullets into both the surviving Russians before they could orient themselves. The rest of managed to get away as well while the BTR drove out of the cloud of smoke, firing blindly around it. The Rangers were already safe, and they were now advancing down the alley with guns raised.

"Check this guy out," Dunn commented when they spotted a stuck paratrooper at the end of the alley. His chute had gotten stuck on the building behind him, and as a result he was dangling a few feet off the ground while trying to disentangle himself. When he spotted the four Americans advancing on him, he tried to reach for his rifle on the ground below him. When that failed, he went for his sidearm. It was a futile gesture as fire from four automatic weapons plowed through him

They continued down the trash-filled alley while hugging the walls, until they came at a parking lot filled with abandoned cars. Dunn was on point, and he peered around it to see what was there.

"What do we have?" Foley asked from behind him.

"Four Russians," Dunn reported, "guarding a supply crate. They aren't facing us, though." Foley looked over his shoulder to see a group of Russian paratroopers guarding a pallet upon which dozens of ammo and weapon cases were strapped down. As Dunn said, they weren't facing them, but rather the street where the fighting was taking place.

"Definitely reservists," Foley concluded. "Ramirez, on me."

Dunn and Morgan stayed behind the wall while Foley and Ramirez took cover behind the nearest car. Once they were in position, Foley gave the order to fire. They killed the four paratroopers and quickly alerted the rest of the Russians to their presence, bringing another group of Russians from the street.

"Control your fire! We don't want those gas tanks to go up!" Foley warned. Between the three riflemen, they managed to pick off the Russians before any of them could find good cover. No sooner had they cleared them when a Russian transport truck turned off the road and came to a halt in the parking lot, prompting Ramirez and Foley to dart back into the alley.

"Dunn, fire a grenade!" Foley ordered. The corporal immediately arched his rifle and sent one of the 40mm projectiles soaring towards the transport. Being lightly armored, the truck exploded, with most of the complement dead in the back of the truck. A few limp bodies fell out onto the pavement. Several shots from Morgan and Foley killed the two in the cab before they could get even get out.

"Behind us!" Ramirez warned, and Foley turned around fast enough to see Ramirez place two accurate bursts of gunfire into two straggling paratroopers that had wandered into the alley.

"Nice shot. Morgan, Ramirez, watch our six!" Foley ordered before quickly turning his attention back front. Another team of Russian paratroops engaged them from within the gas station.

"Get back," Foley ordered Dunn aside and pulled a grenade from his belt. "Fire in the hole!" The deadly sphere soared through the air and into the broken window. The interior of the station was engulfed in a bright explosion seconds later that killed the Russians in it.

"We're clear," Foley called after a moment of silence. "Hunter-Three, we've cleared your west flank."

"Copy that, Two-Actual. They're pulling back for now." The gunfire had completely died down. "Get over here before they come back."

"We're on our way." Foley waved at his team to follow him. "Let's go! Ivan isn't going to give up that easily. We're going to dig in and dig in hard. Hooah?"

"Hooah!"


	3. Chapter 3

The whole area past the gas station was mostly open—extremely dangerous, in other words. Across the main road were four buildings: two fast food restaurants to the right, a bank to their far left, and right in front of them, past some bushes, was a place called 'Nate's Restaurant'.

While crossing the main road, Foley looked around and saw nothing but chaos. On their side of the road, to their left, was a diner—apparently the building they just passed behind. Two Humvees sat outside it, as well as the front of the actual building, torn up by gunfire. The bodies (or what remained of them) of Russian paras dotted the main road as well.

Passing through the bushes, Foley got his first look at Nate's. The first thing he noticed was the remains of a Pave Low helicopter—an old workhorse that had definitely seen better days but was pressed back into duty a few months ago. It looked like it had crashed hard in the parking lot, leaving a long trench in the concrete before coming to a stop in a mangled heap. Foley had seen, and been in, his share of helicopter crashes, and he was honestly surprised anyone even survived that.

The building itself was a mess as well—its neon sign held up only by a single piece of steel wire. The windows had all been blown out, and part of the building looked like it had taken an RPG hit. Several of 3rd Platoon's Humvees were formed into a protective ring around the building, and two Rangers waved at them from the roof as they approached.

"Private," Foley called as he approached the first Humvee on the left side of the building. Two Rangers were operating it: one was on the M2, while another was peering over the hood at the bank.

"Who's in charge here?" Foley asked. One of the soldiers on the Humvee pointed inside and answered him.

"Sergeant Keating. He got hit about ten minutes ago."

Foley nodded and headed inside. Two Rangers were holding the main dining area, but most of the platoon was in the kitchen. Foley had not even seen I.E.D. sites as bad as he saw when he stepped inside.

The horrid and combined smell of blood and bodily waste overpowered even the smell of burning aviation fuel from the Pave Low. 3rd Platoon's dead and wounded were either lying on the floor or were propped up against a wall or an appliance, while one Ranger quickly made rounds between them. Only a few were lifeless corpses, although Foley recognized two of the dead bodies as belonging to the platoon leader and the company XO. As for the wounded, several looked up at Foley as he entered, including one who was propped up against a counter, whom Foley recognized as Sergeant Keating.

"Good to see you made it, Foley." Holes in part of the other NCO's armor and uniform revealed a tightly wrapped but blood-soaked left flank. He already seemed pale from the blood loss.

"Thanks for the assist; that assault wasn't breaking."

"Ivan's still disorganized—doesn't take much to break them. Dunn, give them a hand." Foley motioned to his medic before turning back to the sergeant. "I'll take command of the defense. What's the situation?"

"Overlord actually managed to redirect a supply drop to us after we landed, including an M5 Sentry Gun." Sergeant Keating was referring to an AI-controlled minigun the US had started to deploy as a defensive weapon in the last two years. It used infrared tacking to find and shoot at anything that was not carrying a US electronic ID tag on it—useful for when you wanted an area to be completely restricted. "Not any anti-armor weapons, though." Sergeant Keating coughed for a bit and continued.

"Raptor's in the freezer—thing's bulletproof. He is unconscious but stable—don't know if the Russians know about him. There is an underpass to our south, and they have not bothered coming from that direction. They've been coming mainly from the west and north—infantry only."

"MG Squad and half of 2nd Squad was in the diner across the road to help set up a crossfire. They got overwhelmed. I got two people on the roof and nine on the ground. Lost weapons systems on two of the Humvees—those are the ones on the south side. Overlord said a National Guard convoy would get here eventually. You just gotta keep this site secure till then."

"Understood," Foley said, taking all the information in and started giving orders. "Morgan, Ramirez, get on the roof." It was somewhere the M249 would have an advantage. "Ranger, what kind of injuries do we have here?" Foley addressed the medic who had been applying medical treatment when they walked in and was still moving from casualty to casualty along with Dunn.

"Eight wounded—six from gunshot wounds and two from RPG shrapnel." He said all that without even looking up. "They're stable for now, Sergeant, but we need to get them more medical care soon."

"I read you, soldier; do what you can. My squad medic will help you out." Dunn nodded to show he'd heard. Foley turned and strode out into the dining area. "Rangers, how are we looking on ammo?"

"About fifteen hundred rounds among us," one answered. Some were even taking the lull in battle to thumb more rounds into their empty magazines. Radioing in, Ramirez and Morgan reported there were a couple of Stingers on the roof, along with a few belts of 5.54 mm rounds since the remaining two support gunners were already up there. Ramirez had even found another sniper rifle among the cache. The sentry gun had a full load of ammo and was deployed to the north. As an added bonus, they had passed down a stock of claymores, which the Rangers quickly set up around the perimeter while they weren't being shot at.

"Good." Foley nodded. "Make it fast." He then stepped outside. There were seven Humvees: four facing to the north, one to the west, and two to the south. The southern ones were the ones that had their weapons knocked off line. Two of the ones on the north were out of ammo. The remaining three with offensive capability boasted two 50. cal MGs and an MK19 grenade launcher, although they were low on ammunition as well.

Overall, it was decent defensive position: they had machine guns and long-range fire in an elevated position, Humvees shielding the building from enemy fire and acting as weapons emplacements, and another defensive line behind all that. If enemy air power wanted to show up, they could fight back, too. However, even the sturdiest defense would bend if pressed hard enough. Ivan had proven that before Two-One even got here.

Foley went inside to check one more thing before reporting in to Overlord. "Raptor's in the freezer?" Foley though aloud as he entered the kitchen again.

"Yeah; come and see, Sarge." Dunn got up to show him, and Foley got his first look at the man half a company of Rangers had died for. It was a middle-aged white male, a little round in the waist.

"I checked his I. D." Dunn handed Foley a leather wallet. "C.I.A." Foley checked for himself. The HVI was a spook. "Wonder what he knows that makes him so important?"

"He's important to Ivan, which makes him important to us. Stay here, keep him alive and guarded, Corporal." Foley ordered.

"You got it." Dunn nodded. His inspection complete, Foley decided to radio in.

"Overlord, this is Hunter-Two-Actual. I've taken command of the crash site. We have multiple casualties, including Raptor, and are low on heavy weapons. Ivan's pulled back for now, but we're going to need more support if they press us again, how copy?"

"Copy that, Hunter-Two-Actual; there's a National Guard convoy heading your way, ETA twenty five minutes. You'll have to hold until then. Goliath One and Two are still over the area. We'll let you know if the enemy attacks again."

"Hunter-Two copies—out." Foley got off the radio. Twenty five minutes—with as many Russians as there were in the area, that would seem like an hour. They were set up as best as they could, and all they could do was to hold on. Foley relayed that to the assembled men and joined the Rangers in the dining area, picking a spot near the corner where he could watch both the north and west. It was all quiet for now.

"Hunter-Two, come in!" Foley wasn't even in his spot for more than a minute before Overlord contacted him urgently. "Goliath reports enemy armor rolling your way from the south, over."

"Copy that!" Foley darted to the opposite side of the diner to watch, although he couldn't see anything. "Overlord says we got armor to the south? Ramirez, do you see anything?"

"Hold on," the private responded. He was back in only a few seconds. "He was right!—two BTRs coming up the main road!"

"Damn!" Foley swore, knowing they didn't have anything to counter them. "Get away from the windows!" He didn't even bother asking Overlord again if there was any support available. The BTRs came roaring into the parking lot, and the Rangers outside quickly abandoned the Humvees for the slightly improved safety of the building. Those BTRs had 30mm cannons. Foley had seen 25mm Bushmasters down two-story houses with enough effort in Afghanistan. Those APCs could level the entire restaurant if they wanted, but they didn't.

There was a roar of diesel engines as the BTRs drove right up to the building, and then there was the ugly sound of crunching metal as they rammed into the Humvees surrounding it, pushing them into each other and away from the building. When they were a few yards away, the BTRs reversed and opened fire on the now dented vehicles, destroying them. Both APCs then turned around, headed back onto the main road, and started driving. It soon became apparent that they were doing loops along the road. Not once had they turned their cannons towards the Rangers in the building.

"What the fuck was that about?" a Ranger wondered aloud. Foley already had an idea why they'd just done that.

"Overlord," Foley radioed, "is this comm. line secure?"

"Affirmative, Hunter-Two; this line hasn't been compromised."

"Ivan's two vehicles could've just finished us, but they didn't. They merely destroyed our barricade around the building. I think they know, Overlord. Either they know Raptor is here, or they know we have something in here they want."

"Hunter-Two-Actual, do NOT let Raptor be compromised. Do whatever you can to keep him safe." Overlord paused for a moment. "Hunter-Two-Actual, Goliath is reports enemy transports to the south east, over."

"Roger that. Heads up, ladies! We got trucks to the south!" Foley warned the rest of Hunter.

"Trucks coming from the north as well!—I say again, enemy transports coming from north and south: possible company-sized force heading for your position, Hunter-Two-Actual." Foley's grip on his rifle tightened slightly.

"Roger that, Overlord. We'll hold them back." They may have lost their Humvees, but they still had sniper and machine gun support, not to mention the minigun and claymore perimeter. If the enemy wanted to get close to them, they'd have to cross a lot of open and vulnerable ground. They could pull it off.

"Hunter Company, listen up! Ivan is coming our way. We got a good defensive position here. Stay in cover. Make every bullet count and we'll drive them back, Hooah?"

"Hooah!"

"Good! Keep that sentry gun pointed to the north. Morgan, Ramirez, watch the south—and you two as well!" Foley redirected two of the Rangers in the dining area with him. "Dunn, keep an eye on Raptor."

"On it!" Everyone was in place, and they knew what was coming. All that remained was to give them a warm welcome.

"Trucks just stopped on the road," Ramirez reported. "Parking lot's wide open, easy picking—" The private suddenly swore in his native Spanish. "They deployed smoke!" Foley glanced behind him to see white smoke rapidly filling in the open ground between the road and their position. He turned back forward just in time to see canisters land in the parking lot in front of the bank.

"Does anyone have thermal optics?" Foley demanded. The Russians were playing it smart now. The fighting would get really bloody if they managed to get close or even inside the building.

"The rifle's got some, Sarge!" Ramirez fired off a shot as he said it. "They're running this way, but I got them!" The smoke had gone up before Foley could see the trucks coming from the north, but they must have finally arrived. The M5 Sentry Gun on the roof started to spool before unleashing rapid-fire hell towards something in or beyond the smoke cloud. It had its own targeting system, thankfully, but that was only two guns against many Russians.

"Damn!" Foley cursed. This wasn't a good situation. "Keep that sentry gun firing at all times! Support gunners, spread your fire!" Those guns were used for suppressive fire. Even if it was a waste of ammo, they might be able to net a few kills by firing into the smoke. A familiar explosion outside grabbed his attention—the claymores they'd set down earlier. That was an added bonus. "Everyone else, fire at anything that comes out of the smoke." While it had been laid down to protect their advance, there was still a small gap of open ground between the edge of the smoke and the windows and doors into Nate's. It was a small window of opportunity, but it was a chance for the riflemen not to waste their ammo.

Without thermal optics, Foley and the other Rangers in the dining area were forced to do nothing but stay where they were. Sniper rifle, machine gun, and minigun fire filled the air, punctuated occasionally by the sound of a claymore being set off. One Russian managed to wander through the smoke and right into their sights, and then another. The few who survived the sentry gun died to the gunfire the Rangers began laying on them.

"Sergeant!" Morgan warned over the radio. "They just tripped the claymores at the back of the building!" There was a backdoor in the perimeter, and it was the least defended. Foley stood up and turned just in time to see it happen.

Most of the wounded Rangers had given their rifles and ammo to their able-bodied comrades, but they had kept their side arms. When they'd heard the detonation right outside, seven M9s were drawn, and Dunn emerged from the freezer with his rifle. When the door broke open and the first Russian stumbled in, brandishing his AK, he was immediately hit by multiple rounds from several directions and collapsed in a heap.

The second learned from his dead squad mate's mistakes and did not repeat that move. Instead, he angled his rifle through the doorway and let off a few rounds. Most struck metal surfaces and pans and everyone ducked as they ricocheted, one hitting a wounded Ranger in the leg and another in the throat, killing him. Three hit the Ranger who had been performing first aid for the wounded in the back, and he collapsed onto Sergeant Keating.

"Son of a bitch!" Keating had chosen to keep his rifle, and as soon as the second para poked his head around the door he got a round straight between his eyes. Foley didn't wait for another to come through and ran out the back door, Dunn right behind him.

The smoke had barely wafted over, but it was still providing the Russians a chance to get close. Just after the two men got outside, a trio of Russians emerged from the cloud, hands over their mouths rather than on their rifles. They had no trouble downing them.

The desperate struggle continued for just a few deadly seconds more. From the roof, Ramirez and the sentry gun continued killing Russians while Morgan and the other gunners sprayed wildly into the haze to score a few lucky kills. Occasionally, a Russian would emerge close enough to the restaurant, only for him to be shot by one of the Rangers in the dining area. Foley and Dunn killed two more Russians who tried to outflank them.

Suddenly, the smoke dissipated. The Russians advancing at the south of Nate's were caught in the open and disappeared under a hail of bullets. Some of those at the north of the building faced the same fate, but the rest managed to escape into the bank because the sentry gun chose that moment to expend its last bit of ammunition.

They had just held off an entire company of Russian paratroopers.

"Holy shit; I can't believe we got through that," Dunn remarked as they went back inside.

"We're Rangers, Corporal," Foley reminded him. "Keep that door guarded and take care of the wounded." He returned to the dining area. "Any casualties in here?" Even before he'd finished his sentence, he saw a body lying across a bloodstained stretch of floor. Foley merely shook his head. "Overlord, we've repelled the enemy assault."

"Copy that, Hunter-Two. Excellent work. Your reinforcements are still on the way. Be advised, a Russian fireteam is approaching from the west."

"Hunter-Two copies; we'll hold out for the convoy. Out." That fireteam was most likely stragglers, and not an immediate concern. The BTRs were, until their support arrived. Foley got into the radio.

"Rangers, stay down and away from the windows. Those BTRs are still out there, and we got more infantry coming from that direction as well. Support gunners; try to put some fire on that bank. Ramirez, look west for those stragglers."

Foley then took a spot along the wall with the surviving Rangers and waited until the support gunners started laying down suppressive fire on the bank. He switched to his grenade launcher, and intended to send a round through the window as soon as an opportunity presented itself. Before one could, the Rangers' attention was caught by a sudden shrill whistling sound, one that only lasted a few seconds before ending in a great explosion in the parking lot only a few meters away.

The sound was deafening and the resulting shockwave blew down part of the restaurant and knocked most of the Rangers over, Foley included. The survivors were soon smothered when the resulting dust cloud came in through the windows.

"Was that an airstrike?" someone asked as they got back up.

"There's an aircraft above. We'll try and hit it with the Stingers!" Ramirez reported.

"A fighter?" Foley asked as he finally got up while keeping his head down.

"Too slow for one," the private responded. "It's circling around."

"That's a fucking drone!" Dunn sounded sure. "I don't think those stragglers are stragglers, Sarge!" To Foley's knowledge, the Russians didn't have anything like the Predator drone. Then again, you don't let the enemy know you had new toys.

"Whatever it is, take it down," Foley ordered.

"Firing!" Ramirez called, and Foley heard the whoosh of the small missile above them. "Miss!" he shouted almost immediately after.

"Oh shit…" a Ranger next to Foley muttered, and he already knew what the other soldier was thinking.

"Get off the roof!" Foley ordered. Whoever had fired on them wouldn't miss for a second time, and it sure as hell wouldn't give them enough time to try again. "Get the fuck off the roof!" Foley again ordered. The four Rangers all managed to get off the roof before a successful strike destroyed the last of their supplies, shook the entire building, and rained debris down on them. Two came down the maintenance hatch in the kitchen. The other two—Ramirez and Morgan—hopped over the edge and used the bushes to break their fall before vaulting inside. They were all safe from that drone, but now they were even more trapped in their position.

"Stay in cover and protect the wounded!" Foley ordered. The Russians in the bank were still sending rounds their way and those BTRs were still on the road outside.

"Is it still firing?" Dunn called.

"No," Foley responded after a moment of peace. It had fired on the roof to eliminate their height advantage, and it had fired near the restaurant to knock down the walls and their cover. No doubt about it now: the Russians were definitely trying to avoid leveling the building, which only meant they wanted Raptor or knew there was something in here they wanted.

"Overlord, this is Hunter-Two-Actual," Foley radioed in. "We're now under fire from a Russian UAV as well. We need support if we're going to keep Raptor secure." As he did this, he pulled out his binoculars to observe the diner across the road, immediately spotting what looked like a control rig laid out on the counter. Definitely a control team.

"Negative, Hunter-Two-Actual, all air support is still engaged. Friendly convoy is still several minutes out—that'll be your armored support. We'll task air support as soon as it becomes available, over."

"Understood, Overlord. Hunter-Two, out. Damn!" Foley said the last word only after he was off the air. Those BTRs may have not been firing now, but there was no guarantee they wouldn't later. Now they had that damn drone above threatening to do them in. If they wanted to survive the next hour, they had to rectify that.

However, how could he do it?

He could send men out to see if any of the Russians had AT on them, but then the drone would certainly nail them. This was a situation only air support could solve, but the Russians were the only ones with… An idea came to the sergeant's mind. An unconventional idea, bordering on the insane, but it was the first survivable solution he'd come up with. Rangers did whatever it took to succeed in their mission.

"Ramirez, Dunn!" Foley called the two over to him. "Private, you know written Russian?"

"Not as good as the spoken language, but yeah!" Ramirez confirmed.

"If you got your hands on a Russian drone rig, you think you can take control of it?" Foley went on. The private looked stumped for a moment, but nodded.

"What are you thinking, Sarge?" Dunn asked.

"We need to take out those BTRs, and that drone's the only thing nearby that can do it," Foley explained. "I want you to take a squad and two other men to the diner and kill that S.O.B. Ramirez, take control of that drone and give us some fire support. You'll have to move fast if you don't want it to notice you. Can you both do that?"

"Crazy. I like that." Dunn managed to grin despite the odds. "We're on it, Sarge. Morgan—you two!" Dunn called the men together. "Get your asses ready; we're crossing the road as soon as those BTRs pass by."

"Stay alive, Rangers!" Foley called as the men poised themselves by the entrance. It was a lot of open ground between them and the diner. They'd need more than just timing. "Platoon!" Foley rallied the remaining able-bodied men. "Put suppressive fire on the north; don't let them get a shot off!"

There were only ten of them, but even less Russians in the bank. The Rangers were more than capable of making them keep their heads down. For an added benefit, it probably turned the drone's camera on them for a few critical seconds. As the Russian armor began to make yet another round, Dunn's team took off, running like hell across the parking lot. Foley paused shortly to watch.

The only time they paused was by the hedge just before the road, where they exchanged brief fire with the Russian drone team in the diner. After that, they charged right across the road, shooting from the hip. The BTRs noticed this quickly and turned to charge at them, but by then they'd already vaulted through the windows. The BTRs pulled up outside, uncertain as to whether or not to fire.

"Corporal, you have that building?" Foley radioed but got no response. If there was still a firefight, the BTRs blocked his view of it. "Corporal?" Foley called again after getting no response. There were a few moments of silence before another shrieking sound starting descending on them and…

"Hell, yeah!" someone cheered as a missile struck the area between the two BTRs, the explosive force strong enough to destroy both of them.

"We're in business, Sarge!" Dunn finally got to radioing back.

"Sir, hostiles are retreating from the bank!" Another Ranger informed him. Foley nodded to show he'd heard.

"Good job, Corporal." Foley congratulated. "Ramirez, what do we have?"

"Russian R&D have been busy," the private reported back. "This thing still has three missiles left on it." That meant the drone carried six missiles in total, assuming they hadn't fired any off before getting to them. Definitely on par with any US drone Foley had seen. That was worrisome, but they could report it to the higher-ups only after they got out of this engagement alive.

"I got her in a holding pattern above the lot. There's an enemy squad holed up in that Burger Town. Do I engage?"

Foley contemplated it for a moment before shaking his head to himself. "Hold your fire, Private. There might be more armor where they came from. Get back here and set up surveillance over the area." Foley would have to contact Overlord and have him repurpose Goliath-One and -Two, hopefully to where they'd get a more advanced warning on enemy movement.

"Hunter-Two-Actual, come in!" Overlord radioed them at that very moment, and it didn't give Foley time to answer. "Russian aircraft are approaching your position at high speed!" Foley turned his gaze from the diner back into the sky, and just behind the smoke from the BTRs he could see two low-flying specks, charging right at them, obvious in their intent.

"Fast movers!" Foley yelled, sending the Rangers scrambling. "Take cover!" He'd already turned away from the windows and was running to cover when the bombs dropped, and the last thing he remembered was that smoke and fire filled his vision as his feet left the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

The explosion knocked Foley out of action, but thankfully it was only temporarily. There were still debris and dust wafting through the air when he regained his senses. Dunn's voice was screaming in his ear, repeatedly asking if Foley was still there. He thought he could hear Overlord's as well while the Rangers nearby were shouting and calling out for each other.

"Sound off!" Foley coughed as he inhaled a cloud of debris that immediately left a bad taste in his mouth. He got several responses in similarly distressed voices, and realized, through some miracle, that no one had died. It was a near-miss.

"Sarge!" Foley finally turned his attention to Dunn's almost frantic shouting.

"We're still here," Foley responded. "All right, Hunter; listen up! We can't stay here." Through the haze Foley could see a few small fires hungrily eating at the building. It amazed him that the building had withstood both a drone attack and an air strike, but it wouldn't be able to take more damage. The enemy knew they were here and had access to far more firepower. If Hunter wanted to survive, they had to move now—but where?

Foley's mind worked fast. They could relocate to the bank—that building was probably sturdy enough to withstand frontal assaults. On the other hand, it was at the edge of the lot and surrounded on two sides by walls. If the Russians managed to scale the walls or use them to sneak around and flank them, they could force the remnants of Hunter Company into close-quarters fighting that would _not_ go well.

Foley's eyes focused to the southern side of the lot where a Burger Town was located. Open ground in all four surrounding directions, which meant Russian infantry wouldn't be able to get the jump on them. Even more, it was the closest establishment to the main road, from which their (fabled) support would be coming from. "Dunn!" Foley made up his mind. "Take your team and secure that Burger Town! We got to get our casualties and Raptor out of here before those fast movers make another pass!" That could be any second now. "Get to the wounded!" Foley ordered those still in the building.

The kitchen hadn't been damaged by the air strike, but the casualties gathered there had certainly felt it. Foley made straight to the freezer for Raptor. The man was still unconscious, but breathing nevertheless. Foley hauled him over his shoulders in a fireman's carry and left the freezer to see that all the wounded present had been gathered and were accounted for.

"What about the dead?" one of able-bodied Rangers called.

"We'll have to leave them here," Foley answered.

"What?"

"We don't have time, soldier." Foley explained while motioning everyone towards the building's side door.

"You're fucking kidding, right? If those planes hit the building again—"

"We know what'll happen, Torres." Keating snapped at the Ranger. "It's that or our asses. Now can it and come on!" The Ranger is question was clearly gritting his teeth but complied nevertheless. Foley would probably come to regret that order in time; leaving the dead behind was a terrible thing on a man's conscience, but this was war right now.

"Sarge, we got the Burger Town!" Dunn reported. "Russians didn't put up much a fight."

"Good job, Corporal; we're coming over! Keep us covered! Let's go!" The number of wounded they had to carry meant that none of the Rangers leaving Nate's would be able to fire. The best they could do was to make a straight dash, and that was what they did.

"Go! Go!"

They ran across the parking lot, making avoiding the scattered remains of Russian paras who'd fallen in the assault barely minutes ago. From behind him he heard the crack of an assault rifle—a Russian straggler, probably, and a recruit at that. Almost immediately it was answered by the crack of a sniper rifle from Burger Town; Ramirez had kept the gun he'd gotten from the roof.

"Keep those guys off us!" Foley ordered. Ramirez fired off a few more shots until the bulk of Hunter was finally halfway through to the fast food joint across seemingly infinite open ground. It was in the middle of their dash to safety that the roar of jet engines returned. It was followed seconds later by a massive explosion behind them, causing several of the men bringing up the rear to fall to ground while causing the rest to stumble as the impact of the explosion blew over them.

"Get up! We have to keep moving!" Foley urged. The second bombing had completely leveled Nate's, burying everything—and everyone—still there under rubble. None of them dwelled on that thought for long. It was a tense few seconds while they picked up the wounded who'd fallen and quickly kept moving across the lot and into the Burger Town.

"Dunn, get the wounded into the kitchen where they're safe!" Foley ordered. "I want support gunners on the roof, two men at the back entrance, and the rest on the front windows! Ramirez, show me that drone rig!" Once Foley had set Raptor down in the back of the kitchen between two metal appliances, he vaulted above the counter and back into the dining area to find the private sitting at one of the tables, a bulky computer in front of him.

"Guess they're behind the times—this thing isn't tuned to any IFF," the private commented as Foley leaned down to check. On the screen was a grainy thermal picture of the lot, the road, and a portion of the highway. The private had the camera pivoted towards the bank, focusing on two heat signatures taking cover behind the building. Words and what he assumed were numbers in Cyrillic flashed and changed on both sides of the screen. "It's in autopilot right now—just circling around."

"Good job," Foley said as he patted the younger man on the shoulder. "We got air support now if Ivan wants to press his luck. You see any Victors, take them out. Don't waste them on infantry. You see anything, call it."

"Got it," Ramirez said, nodding.

Taking advantage of the brief lull in the fighting, Foley went to check the wounded. "Rangers, we good?" he asked the assembled wounded. It didn't take long to notice a few of them were still bleeding from reopened wounds, and they were trying to staunch the bleeding until Dunn patched them up. Despite that, he got a few nods of affirmation from them. They were holding on. That left one more thing to do.

"Hunter-Actual to Overlord, come in."

"Hunter-Actual, this is Overlord, we read you. You were offline for several minutes."

"Russians bombed our position. We've relocated to a Burger Town on the south side of the lot. Raptor is still safe and we've secured a Russian drone for fire support." There was a moment of silence over the comm. line.

"Uh, Hunter-Actual, can you repeat that last?"

"We've neutralized an enemy drone team and captured the control rig. We got it circling above the lot now."

"…Affirmative, Hunter-Actual; we see it above your position. Hunter-Actual, we have your support on the line, patching them through now."

 _About damn time,_ Foley thought.

"This is Captain Anton, of the Virginia National Guard, call-sign Bravo-Six. Who am I speaking to?"

"Sergeant Foley, active commander of Hunter Company!"

"Copy that, sergeant. We're coming directly down I-95, ETA fifteen minutes. What's your status?"

"We're holed up in a Burger Town south of the crash site. We have the HVI secure. Most of the company is K.I.A and we have multiple wounded. Our location is close to an enemy rally point and we've been engaging enemy infantry for the last half hour. Enemy armor and aircraft are in the area."

"Copy that, Hunter-Actual. We'll be there soon. Be ready to mount up—we don't wanna stay behind enemy lines for long."

"Understood; see you soon. Hunter out." Foley immediately relayed the good news to the Rangers present. "Fifteen minutes, Rangers—let's hold on till then!" He wasn't even off the radio for half a minute before Overlord came back on.

"Hunter-Actual, come in. Relay from Goliath-One and –Two: Russian infantry is advancing on you from the north and the west."

"Copy that Overlord, Hunter out. Enemy infantry to the north and west; get ready, ladies!" Foley warned.

"They aren't giving us a break, are they?" Dunn yelled from the kitchen.

"Afraid not, corporal," Foley called back. "Once you're finished with the wounded, go up to the roof. Ramirez, get some eyes on them."

"Already found them," the private said as Foley came by to look at the control rig again. The camera was pointed north of the lot, and was focused right on a large mass of heat signatures coming down the road towards them. That had to be a whole platoon.

"How many missiles do we have left?"

"Only three, Sarge."

Foley mulled over that. Their support was only a few minutes away, assuming no enemy ambushes or sudden screw-ups. Ivan couldn't have a lot of armor in the area, either. If those Russians got close, open ground or not they'd be outnumbered three to one.

"We gotta keep Ivan disorganized. Put a missile right in the center of that group."

"Got it." Ramirez adjusted the targeting reticule over the mass of enemy infantry and jabbed his thumb down on the fire button. Unexpectedly, the view on screen switched to a camera in the missile as it was launched and began its lethal descent downwards. The image zoomed from the entire group down to one Russian who Foley was sure looked up at the last second before the image vanished, transitioning quickly back to the drone's camera above.

"Hunter-Actual, confirmed strike on that first group—at least fifty per cent KIA," Overlord reported. On the screen, the smoke had dissipated to show much fewer heat signatures stumbling away from the impact point.

"Must be reservists," Foley commented, watching as the Russians started fanning out much too late towards the diner and the bank but still moving towards them. It was not enough to warrant another missile launch, though. "Hunter, engage those stragglers once they get close," Foley ordered.

The Russians closed the distance soon enough, a few coming around the back of the collapsed Nate's to try and outflank them. A few had stopped on the way over to examine their many dead comrades dotting the landscape from the first failed assault. The Rangers opened fire from the front windows and the roof as they got close, with Foley using the drone feed to direct fire towards the most vulnerable targets. It was after a few tense minutes when Overlord radioed in—a second group of infantry had arrived, at which point Foley ordered Ramirez to redirect the camera west.

The second platoon was coming down the same alleyway where the remains of Two-One had come down just a few minutes ago, and they were now passing behind the dinner and had already entered the gas station's parking lot. Just like the first group earlier, it was too big to engage by themselves. That it could've had an easy time flanking them didn't escape Foley's thoughts, either. "Neutralize that group too."

"Sergeant, if I fire a missile there that gas station is going to go up in flames," the private warned.

"They can dock our paychecks later, private. Hit em!" Ramirez nodded and jabbed down on the fire button. The missile streaked down directly for the gas pumps as the Russian platoon started passing through, and it impacted right behind the roof. A bright white flash appeared amid the Russian infantry before the entire screen was engulfed in white.

Outside, the gas station went up in one great colossal explosion as the underground tanks were ignited, literally removing all traces of the Russian paratroopers. The explosion knocked down the station itself and part of the diner behind it. The shockwave also passed through Burger Town a second later, causing the whole building to shake while several fixtures and appliances fell down their shelves. The deafening roar held in the air for a few moments before dissipating, leaving a momentary silence in its wake.

"Holy shit." Dunn was the one who broke it, and the other members of the platoon began to speak all at once in tones of awe and shock. All of them had seen air and drone strikes before, but nothing quite as grand as that.

"Uh, Hunter-Actual?" Even Overlord seemed stunned. "That Russian platoon is confirmed KIA. The one north of you is pulling back. Your sector is clear for now."

"Hunter copies," Foley confirmed. "Ivan's pulled back for now!" Foley called. "Check your ammo and the wounded!" Foley turned to his weapon—two magazines left on top of the half-empty one he had in his gun—not a bad situation. A few Rangers grabbed a couple of discarded AK-74s from the floor and pillaged the dead paras for their magazines. Dunn and Morgan came down to scavenge an RPD and the necessary drum magazines from a Russian support gunner.

The wounded and Raptor were still okay, and after a few minutes of taking stock of their inventory they discovered that they still had enough ammunition to fight. Their evac was on the way and they had fire support above them. Things were looking good.

And then, just like everything else so far in the invasion, what could go wrong did go wrong.

"The fighters are back!" a Ranger in the front of the store warned. A distant explosion reached their ears.

"Shit, shit shit!" Ramirez started swearing, jabbing buttons on the panel.

"What happened?" Foley demanded, moving over. The drone feed was gone, replaced by static and a Cyrillic phrase within a red box.

"They shot it down." Ramirez slammed his hands down on the table. "We just lost our fire support." He said it loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Nothing we could've done." Foley grabbed the rifle the private had set beside the computer and handed it to him. "Get to the roof and watch our perimeter." Once the private left Foley spoke to the rest of the men. "Keep an eye out," Foley warned everyone present. "Ivan's probably going to try and take advantage of this." Overlord radioed to confirm his suspicions a moment later.

"Hunter-Actual, be advised, NORAD is tracking two enemy attack helicopters in your AO—looks like they're coming your way."

"Copy that, Overlord, but we just lost our fire support. Can't our own defenses take care of them?"

"Negative, Hunter-Actual; all assets are already engaged." The sergeant clenched his fist.

"Damn," Foley swore. He tried another source. "Bravo-Six, our position is becoming increasingly indefensible. We need to get ourselves and Raptor out of here now!" Their reinforcements proved just as reliable as Overlord was.

"We're still about ten minutes out; hold on till then, Hunter." Ten? It seemed like it had been longer than five minutes since their last contact. Either way, they'd have to face that threat on their own for sure.

"Damn!" Foley repeated before he informed the rest of the platoon. "Ivan's got air support coming our way! We're going to need anti-air! Was there anything left in the Humvees? Anyone see the Russians carrying something?" Foley asked.

"Anti-air?" Ramirez repeated. "Shit! There were some Stingers in the diner, sergeant!"

"There were?" Foley remembered Keating had said they'd deployed part of the platoon over there. They must have unpacked their Stingers before getting killed. Hopefully the explosion from the gas station hadn't destroyed them. "We need to get them before Ivan's air support gets here!" There was a noise in the back as the private came down from the roof into the dining area. He set the sniper rifle on the table as he passed.

"I'm on it!" The private was through the window a second later and out running in the open the next.

"Ramirez!" Foley called, but by then the private was a quarter of the way there. "Platoon, try and keep him covered!" Foley ordered, reaching back to grab the rifle for himself. He propped the longer weapon on the window edge and peered through the scope.

Black smoke was still drifting over the area, obscuring his vision of the diner. He lost sight of the private as he jumped through one of the shattered windows. Ramirez appeared a moment later, running out the front door with two Stingers underneath both arms.

"Come on, man; get your ass back over here!" Dunn was yelling and waving for his subordinate. Foley watched Ramirez coming back their way before his eyes glanced upwards and noticed a small spec in the sky, which was getting bigger by the second—the Russian gunship.

"Ramirez—behind you!" At his sergeant's warning, Ramirez slowed and glanced back to spot the rapidly approaching threat. He immediately stopped in the middle of the parking lot and dropped one of the Stingers before bringing the other to bear and then fired a moment later.

The Russian gunship had been making a beeline for them at high speed, and the pilot noticed too late he was being tracked. Although he tried to veer to the left at the last minute, the missile managed to readjust and strike the tail rotor as the helicopter passed over the lot. It disappeared over the Burger Town into a fiery explosion a few seconds later.

"It's down!" One of the men on the roof confirmed. Discarding the spent launcher, Ramirez picked up the remaining Stinger and quickly made it back inside while being greeted with a few whoops and a pat on the shoulder from his fellow Rangers near the door.

"Good job." Foley handed the rifle back to the private. "We got another one coming. Get on the roof and watch for it." The private nodded and headed for the back of the restaurant. "Hunter, keep away from the windows and try to stay out of sight. Don't give that helo a reason to fire." Stingers were point-defense weapons, and Foley knew if that attack helicopter decided to send a missile at them from afar, it wouldn't be of much use. They'd stay out of sight, hoping the Hind would come closer searching for them, close enough for a missile to nail it.

"It's on you, Ramirez. Don't miss." Foley hung back with the rest as the helo got close enough to get a jump on then. Then, there was a whoosh of a missile launch, followed by an explosion a second later. The Hind began to whine and, as the men of Hunter Company watched from the safety of the restaurant, it crashed into the main street a few meters away from them, not too far from where the BTRs were.

"I think Ramirez earned himself a commendation," Dunn remarked.

"Good job, private," Foley radioed.

"Hunter-Actual, we've confirmed both helicopters are down. Russian forces north of you position are advancing again."

"Don't worry, Overlord." Foley waved everyone up. "We got them."

The firefight was nowhere near as desperate as before once the enemy got close. Even though the Russians wouldn't back off, they made no attempt to storm the building. The Rangers kept themselves down and in cover. Neither side made a push towards the other while the exchange became more sporadic, with both sides trading fire only to keep the other in place. It wasn't as much a fight as it was a waiting game—both were waiting for their heavier support to take out the other.

Fortunately for the Rangers, it was their side that came through first.

"Hunter-Actual, this is Bravo-Six-Actual; we're coming down the off ramp now." Foley risked sticking his head up to look up at the highway and saw the top halves of the vehicles behind the concrete safety barrier—Humvees, trucks, and even a pair of Bradleys.

"I see you Actual! We're holed up in the Burger Town, with multiple Russian infantry to our front. We'll be coming out the back door, so hold your fire!"

"Understood, Hunter-Actual; the Bradley will take care of that infantry."

Foley then turned to the Rangers inside the building.

"That's our reinforcements, Rangers! We held our ground." Despite the occasional Russian bullet still flying over their heads, there were a few cheers. Even after the losses they'd suffered, to cling to that one bit of good news was good for morale.

One Bradley had pulled up in front of the building, its 25mm cannon barking out at the Russians taking cover near and far. Hunter used the cover to get out of there, grabbing their wounded and exiting out of the back door to reach the convoy still parked defensively on the main road.

"There's room for the wounded in the trucks!" one of the soldiers called, a few dismounting to help Hunter's walking casualties reach them. Foley had Raptor across his shoulders and was wondering whether or not to put him in with the rest when he and the company were relieved of the burden. The Bradley had stopped its fire and started reversing back onto the road. The ramp came down and two more soldiers came out and ran over to him.

"That Raptor?" one of them asked. Foley recognized their equipment from deployments in Afghanistan: they were Navy SEALS. That made it a Ranger company, a SEAL fireteam, and even what looked like a mechanized infantry platoon—so many resources that could've gone towards fighting off this invasion were diverted just for this one man.

"He better be worth it," Foley commented as he handed Raptor. The SEAL shrugged in response as they carried him off to the IFV. While Hunter was still loading up its wounded, Foley went to find the commander in one of the forward Humvees.

"Hell of a job here, sergeant," the National Guard Captain said as Foley climbed into the back seat. "I wasn't sure we'd get here in time." Behind them, the M2 turned around and got back on the highway—they were heading north to friendly lines.

"It cost us a lot," Foley said while shaking his head. "We had to leave some of our dead behind. The rest of the company is K.I.A somewhere in the area." The National Guard captain shook his own head.

"You'll have to mark them with TAC for pickup later—we have more work to do. 8th Armored is already a few miles north of us. They'll have to get them." There was still a full invasion going on, and they couldn't even afford their fellow soldiers that respect.

"What's next?" Foley asked.

"We got re-tasked on the way here. There's a residential community north of here—Arcadia. Hasn't been evacuated yet and the Russians have set up AA in the area—probably a rally point. National Guard is taking care of it and you just got volunteered."

"Understood," Foley said, nodding. He didn't like it, but it wasn't something they could afford to do right now. There'd be time for mourning when the invasion was over.

"Team, listen up!" Foley relayed the news to Hunter Company. "We still got fifteen hundred civvies in Arcadia! If you got family there, it's your lucky day: we're going to get them out of there." When he was done with that, he shook his head. This couldn't be called a successful mission. They'd lost far too much for it…

Foley shook his head. He had to get his mind back to the task at hand. As the convoy drove its way through the battered streets of northern Virginia, he began to ask for specifics from the captain, trying to get some information before they went into battle once more. There'd be plenty of time for recriminations and finger-pointing afterwards, but there was still a war to be won.


End file.
